


Mission: Pilot

by Scarletwolf



Category: Batman (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Bad guys, Boys and their missions, Gen, It's Jon's first mission, Oneshot, This was supposed to be a lot darker but, and their swords, more lighthearted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarletwolf/pseuds/Scarletwolf
Summary: Jon goes on his first mission without his dad. It doesn't end up going very well.‘Where was Damian?’ Jon thought mournfully. The older boy was nowhere to be found and Jon had to force himself not to assume that he had abandoned him to these… these… people. Even naïve Jon knew that they were anything but friendly. One of the guards shifted, his blade skidding softly against Jon’s neck and making him shiver. He closed his eyes tightly and bit back a whimper.





	

Smoke curls from the end of the cigarette in the man’s mouth and Jon watches it, transfixed. He’s standing in the middle of a large room, back ram rod straight and his arms curled behind his back with large metal cuffs laced with trace amounts of Kryptonite linking them together. It’s not enough Kryptonite to poison him, but enough that there’s no way Jon could use his powers to break free. Jon’s aware of every tiny detail in the room- from his own frantically beating heart to the little beads of sweat dripping down the chin of the servant boy in the far corner.   
  
The man grunts and that has Jon’s eyes snapping back to him in fear. But all the man does is turn a page in the documents he was reading. Still, the guards that stand next to Jon have the tips of their spears pressed to Jon’s neck, so that any small movement can have them piercing into this throat and ending his life then and there. That fact makes his heart hammer harder and shoulders tremble in fear.   
  
‘Where was Damian?’ Jon thought mournfully. The older boy was nowhere to be found and Jon had to force himself not to assume that he had abandoned him to these… these… _people_. Even naïve Jon knew that they were anything but friendly. One of the guards shifted, his blade skidding softly against Jon’s neck and making him shiver. He closed his eyes tightly and bit back a whimper.   
  
The only reason they haven’t killed him was because they were waiting for the orders of the large leader guy on the make shift throne. The guy, who probably only hadn’t executed the order yet because he was an impossibly slow reader; even slower than Barney Tecson in his fourth grade class who had to take special classes after school, ignored his presence completely as he read the papers in his hand. Jon wanted to cry out. He wanted to call for his dad, Damian, _anybody_ but was too afraid that it would anger the man and he would die before anyone could come.   
  
He’s still not exactly sure how he got into this mess…. No, that’s not true. He knows exactly how.   
  
**[TWELVE HOURS AGO…]**  
  
“You want me to what?” Jon asked, glancing up from his sandwich to raise his eyebrows at Damian. Damian, for his part, looked irritated at having to repeat himself again. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a foot propped against the edge of the table. He used that foot to push his chair back to tip onto its hind legs as he tapped an impatient finger on his arm.   
  
“Must I repeat myself, _Kent_?” He sneered. The last name dripped with a mix of disgust and that I’m-more-superior-than-you attitude that Damian had perfected over the years. The name was always said in the same way, and Damian absolutely refused to call any of them by their other last name, White. Honestly, Jon just wanted Damian to call him Jon, but the last time he suggested it, Damian had spent two weeks calling him every vulgar name possible as substitution. So Jon learned not to press it.   
  
The young Super put his sandwich down onto his plate and angled his body toward Damian, intending to wait for him to continue. Damian sighed. “ _You_ will accompany me on a mission to South Africa. There is an army of criminals there that have a certain piece of information I need. We leave in an hour.”   
  
There were still so many questions rattling in Jon’s brain. Why were they going there? What was the information? Why couldn’t Damian go with his dad? Why was _he_ going? But the question that tumbled out was,   
  
“Did you ask my parents if I could go?”   
  
He thought it was a perfectly valid question and absolutely not deserving of the incredulous snort that came out of Damian. The barely-teen leant forward in his seat, bringing the chair back onto all four legs with a loud clack. His green eyes bore into Jon with all the emotional intensity that made Jon feel small, uneducated, and every other bad thing. He refused to shrink in on himself, though, matching Damian’s stare with his own.   
  
“I haven’t asked my parents for permission to go on a mission since the day I could speak.” The former assassin scoffed.   
  
“I saw you get grounded last week for going to Batburger by yourself.” Jon countered, not mentioning that Damian had taken one of Bruce’s cars on a joyride to do so. Still, Jon thought it a good counter argument to Damian’s words. Mr. Bruce did actually like to know where Damian ran off to.   
  
“That doesn’t count.”   
  
“Does so.”   
  
“Does no- that’s not the point!” Damian yelled, pulling at his hair. Jon took it as a win.   
  
“The _point_ is, that if I leave the country without telling mom and dad, mom’s gonna murder me.” He picked up his sandwich and took a bite.   
  
Damian frowned. “I thought the Supers were against killing.”   
  
“Figure of speech, Dames.”   
  
Damian grumbled something about how it was a stupid figure of speech and Jon rolled his eyes. At least they weren’t literally at each other’s throats constantly anymore. “Besides,” Damian continued after a few minutes of silence where Jon ate his sandwich. “I have left father a note. He is sure to inform your parents of the mission once he reads it.” Then, he changed tactics on the sly. “Don’t you want to prove yourself, Kent? This mission is simple and once completed you are sure to prove to your father that you are capable of handling real vigilante business.”   
  
That did catch Jon’s attention. He slowly swallowed the last bite of his ham and cheese as he mulled it over. “How long will we be there?” He asked, hesitantly. Honestly, he didn’t like the way Damian’s usually grumpy face split wide in a triumphant smile.   
  
“Just for thirty-six hours if it all goes according to plan.”   
  
That wasn’t too bad, right? That wasn’t even two days. He could… He could tell his parents he’s having a sleepover. Despite the fact that Jon hated lying to his parents, he also knew that they wouldn’t let him go if they knew where he and Damian were going. And Jon really wanted to have a mission on his own, away from his dad. Not that he didn’t love his dad, but he couldn’t always hold his dad’s hand forever.   
  
“Fine.” Jon said after he finished thinking it over in his head. He turned back to Damian. “Fine. Let’s go.” He decided. Damian looked triumphant, already having slipped his mask onto his face while Jon had been thinking.   
  
“Excellent.” The thirteen year old hissed happily, mask crinkling as his eyes narrowed along with his grin. It made it look pretty spooky; how Jon couldn’t actually see Damian’s eyes through the mask, but the whites of the lenses narrowed and widened along with Damian’s expressions. It kind of felt like Jon was looking at a robot’s face. Jon’s theory that the bat family were all for dramatic effects, solidified even more.   
  
Damian was, if anything, extremely efficient in utilizing their time. He had all of their things and Jon into a private Jet to the Caribbean before Jon could fully process what happened. The jet was huge and ornate. There weren’t many seats rowed together like a normal airplane. Instead, there were a few plush couches and some booths and a mini bar in the back and Jon couldn’t help but stare at everything in awe.   
  
“Father would have noticed too soon if we took the Batplane.” Damian tsked, ignoring Jon’s awed stares. “I would have preferred the extra ammunition but I guess we can’t have everything.”   
  
He actually sounded disappointed. As if having your own private jet wasn’t enough. Jon was ten, and monetary struggles eluded him, but he still wanted to punch Damian.   
  
“Right. Yeah.” He said instead. Then he slumped into his seat and stared out the window at the sky.   
  
**[PRESENT…..]**   
  
The leader seemed to finally finish his reading. He tossed the stack of papers to the side, hitting a servant in the face. The servant made no moves against it; not even a flinch. Jon wondered if he was just as afraid of dying by this man’s hands as he was.   
  
“So, we’re on to the main course, eh?” The fat man sneered, staring down at Jon with slightly deranged eyes. Jon shrank in on himself as much as he could. With tremendous effort, the fat man stood from his ‘throne’. (In actuality it was just a really fancy dining chair set up on some kind of alter.) The man wobbled down until he was standing in front of Jon’s kneeling form.   
  
“Thought you could steal from the great Crime Lord, Kamran, eh? Boy?” His breath smelled bad and his teeth were all yellow. When Jon didn’t answer, Kamran grew irritated. He thrust his hand out, grabbing the half Kryptonian by the jaw and pulling him forward painfully. “Answer me, boy!” Kamran barked.   
  
“N-no.” Jon gasped. Oh, how he wished that he could use his powers right about now. The Kryptonite laced cuffs kept sapping him of his energy and Jon had to bite back another whimper as Kamran’s blunt nails dug painfully into his cheeks.   
  
“No, what?”   
  
“N... No, I didn’t think I could steal from you.” Jon clarified. It seemed to be the right answer because Kamran grinned, showing off all of his crooked yellow teeth, and let go.   
  
“That’s right. Ain’t no one who can steal from the Great Kamran!” Kamran boasted, laughing a deep gurgley laugh. He turned away from Jon, ambling back toward the alter. He stopped next to one of his guard men, turning his head to the side and ordering,   
  
“Kill him.”   
  
Jon closed his eyes when the man’s blade swung down at him.   
  
**[FOUR HOURS AGO….]**   
  
The hotel Damian had booked for the two of them was the fanciest building Jon had ever been in. It was even fancier than Wayne Manor. Their room overlooked the crystal clear ocean and had two separated bedrooms, plus a large sitting room and mini bar and kitchen area. It was bigger than the entire first floor of the White family house! Even the carpet was a soft, plush red. Jon could even tell that it had been recently steamed and vacuumed.   
  
Damian had said this was the hotel’s Master Suite and had told him to disregard how he, a thirteen year old boy, was able to book a hotel room without his dad there when Jon had asked. The farm boy shrugged it off, choosing to instead take his shoes off and enjoy the view from the large balcony. His family had stayed in a hotel once when they went to Disney Land. It was a small room, though, with only one bed and a pull out couch. It was nothing compared to this room.   
  
Damian had let Jon look around in awe, and even brought him some juice and snacks when he joined him on the balcony. They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the ocean waves crash on the beach.   
  
Then, Damian slid a folder across the table between them to Jon.   
  
“The organization we’re infiltrating is a small subset of a pirate group terrorizing these parts.” The teen said, voice hardening to a more serious tone than five minutes ago. “They have information on a new uprising crime group operating out of south Gotham. That’s the information I’m after.”   
  
As Jon listened, he flipped through the folder, sipping his juice absently. Most were surveillance photos from various street cams and a few that looked like it was taken from behind buildings and bushes. Then there were only a few pages with words on them. There didn’t seem to be much information about the people themselves.   
  
“So, why is it again that you’re not going with your dad on this?” Jon asked. “I mean, if it’s about a crime group operating out of Gotham, shouldn’t the Batman be the one to stop it?”   
  
Damian wrinkled his nose. “Father says that the research is too inconclusive to conduct an infiltration mission. But-!” he interjected when Jon opened his mouth. “But, my sources say this sub group is changing their hide out location soon. If we don’t act now, we’ll miss our chance.”   
  
It didn’t sound… safe, to Jon but then Damian had gone on missions like these before, right? He was still relatively new to all this. Maybe all missions went like this. Damian seemed to sense his unease, because he turned in his chair and gave Jon the smallest of smiles that was neither condescending nor taunting.   
  
“You can trust me, Superboy.”   
  
**[PRESENT….]**  
  
The sound of a blade ripping through skin seemed to echo through the hideout. Jon waited for the pain to come. It didn’t. Confused, and not letting himself feel relieved just yet, the boy cracked an eye open to look up at his would be killer.   
  
The man was slack, his eyes wide like he couldn’t believe something. The middle of his torso had the end half of a sword sticking through it, red pooling around the gleaming middle. Then, the blade was pulled out and the man collapsed in a heap by Jon’s feat.   
  
Everyone seemed to be in shock. Kamran had one foot on the alter and his body twisted around to stare in disbelief. Even the other henchmen seemed too shocked to move. Jon tore his eyes away from the dead body and up to stare at Damian’s grinning masked face.   
  
Robin took the moment to move behind Jon and unlock the cuffs around his wrists. He had no idea where Damian even got the keys, but as he felt his powers course through him again, coupled with the relief that Damian did not abandon him, he realized he didn’t really care.   
  
Kamran seemed to snap out of his shock. “Kill them!!!” He roared and his henchmen moved toward him and Robin at once. There was a mixture of bullets and blades flying at them and both kids spurred into action. Jon flew up into the air, casting his heat vision down on the weapons, knocking them out of now injured hands.   
  
Robin flew gracefully between the men, his sword and batarangs knocking the men out with ease. He seemed to be having fun and Jon noticed that other than the first man, no one was being killed. (Thank God for that.)   
  
“Where were you?!” He called over the gunfire. He used his ice breath to freeze some mens’ feet to the ground.   
  
“Infiltrating.” Was Robin’s reply.   
  
Jon scowled.   
  
“I could have died!” He yelled. “They were going to kill me, you know!” Damian jumped up and bashed his knee into some guy’s face before turning to face Jon and rolling his eyes behind the mask.   
  
“I was in the room the whole time. I would not have let you die, Superboy.” He drawled before ducking from a sword swinging at his head.   
  
Jon furrowed his brows, punching away a man brave enough to jump from the hanging rafters. Damian had been in the room? But he would have noticed! Unless…. Looking more carefully at Damian he noticed that the boy was sweating slightly. Or, what he thought of sweat that was rolling down the tanned boy’s cheek had a very faint yellow tinge to it. And then Jon realized he couldn’t sense Damian’s presence. The image of the lowly servant boy in the corner flashed in Jon’s mind and suddenly everything clicked together.   
  
He was about to say something again when something wrapped around his ankle and he was suddenly being dragged down with immense force. His breath left his body as Jon smashed into the concrete floor forming a small crater in the floor. Kamran stood over him, holding the end of a grappling hook. His face looked livid, eyes bulging out, face red, and veins threatening to burst past his skin.   
  
“You!” He snarled, advancing on Jon’s form. Jon watched in a panicked gaze as he drew closer. There was searing pain in his ankle and he guessed he broke it in the fall. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes, blurring Kamran’s face. Oh God… He was going to die…! He didn’t want to die!   
  
His vision turned red and before he knew what was happening, his heat vision shot out and his Kamran squarely in the chest. The force of the blast sent the giant man flying backwards and through a wall. He landed several yards away, body still. It didn’t look like Kamran would be getting up anytime soon.   
  
Robin ran to him, crouching down to examine the ankle. He tsked, then pulled Jon carefully on his back, carrying the taller boy with ease.   
  
“The mission is over. Let’s get you home, Superboy.” He said, walking toward the exit. He knew it was supposed to be soothing, but everything that just happened came crashing down onto Jon, and the ten year old wracked out a sob, clinging to Damian tightly as they left the bad guy's lair back toward their hotel.

They'll have to splint Jon's leg, and then they'll inevitably have to face the wrath of their dad's soon, but that's a problem for another day.


End file.
